RatchetTwins Drabbles
by ryagelle
Summary: A series of drabbles written for a devArt meme after I got tagged by TaintedTamer; you may lay the blame for these squarely at her feet. ;p Most are established Ratchet/Twins, slash nothing graphic , some mentions of character death, G1.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I felt kinda doofy doing this, but it ended up being kinda fun. I wrote these bits for a meme on devArt; they're all established Ratchet/Twins because that's what the muse struck me with. --;  
Ratings vary, but there are none higher than T. Some of them mention character death.

The rules for the meme are as follows:

Choose a subject and go -

Writing: Put your entire music collection on shuffle, hit play, and write. Write for as long as each song plays and move on to a different writing when the song switches(even if it's mid-sentence). Go for ten songs(or five). If nothing comes, it still counts. If you're listening to a comedian, you can skip it.

Drawing: Basically same as the writing, only you draw for the duration of the song instead of write.

Let me know which of these you would most like to see continued; all of them are gnawing at my heels, but I just don't have the time to devote to writing all of them. (Also, if you would like to adopt one, please feel free to do so. Just send me a link with the finished result.)

Disclaimer: As usual, I'm a poor broke college student who owns nothing.

**Until the End – Breaking Benjamin**

Sideswipe shrieked in fury and fear when he saw Sunstreaker plummet from his perch on Skywarp's back. He leaped after him, trying to use his jetpack to catch him, but he could see it was useless even as he made the jump. He watched in horror as his brother struck the ground, and screamed for Ratchet, who was already racing across the battlefield toward the fallen yellow warrior.

They both reached him at the same time, and the worried medic didn't spare a moment to swear at either of the twins before diving in to stop Sunstreaker's spark from guttering. Sideswipe knew that it was a useless endeavor; Sunny somehow managed to meet his gaze and shake his head minutely.

Sideswipe expelled the air from his cooling system in a long, shaky sigh, and sat down beside Ratchet to await the inevitable. He could feel through the bond that the medic was just as terrified as they were, that he knew what was happening even if he didn't want to acknowledge it.

**Chicks Dig It – Chris Cagle**

"Why the frag do you always do this to yourself?!" Ratchet snarled, slapping the side of Sideswipe's black helm.

Sideswipe shrugged and grinned. "Because it was fun. Besides, you like it when you've got me in your claws," he purred, and the medic growled in response.

"Banging out your dents is not what I would define as fun," he snapped, and Sideswipe's grin just grew. "So tell me again why you decided to go sledding from the top of the volcano—and give me a rational explanation this time

**Magic Carpet Ride – Steppenwolf**

"C'mon, it'll be fun, Ratch," Sideswipe wheedled, looking at his bondmate with a pleading expression.

Ratchet gave him a flat look, and then spared one for Sunstreaker, standing impassively behind his brother. "No. I'm not doing it," he said stubbornly.

"But how will you know whether you like it or not if you don't try it? We won't hurt you."

**Second to None – Styles of Beyond ft. Mike Shenodah**

"Any other takers?" Sunstreaker purred, turning in circles to pin each mech in the training room with his vicious stare. He bared dental plates when no one stepped up, looking feral with the battlelust coursing through his systems.

"I thought so," he concluded smugly after completing his circuit.

**I Shall Believe – Sheryl Crow**

"Come here, Sunny," Ratchet said soothingly, warily eyeing the warrior, who had his hackles up from the rather merciless teasing his comrades had subjected him to. The others hadn't yet figured out that Sunstreaker couldn't be needled about a new relationship the way that other mechs could.

"No," Sunstreaker said shortly, still glaring angrily at the room at large.

Ratchet sighed and went to him, knowing that it was futile to convince the yellow twin to do anything he didn't want to do when he was in a mood like this. In full view of the rest of the room, and not caring in the least what they thought, he wrapped his arms around his warrior lover. He was rewarded with the feel of Sunstreaker relaxing against him minutely.

"They're just teasing you," he said softly, and Sunstreaker nodded hesitantly. He laid his head on one white shoulder, and Ratchet felt some of his own tension leave him.

"I believe you," Sunny murmured

**Fade to Black – Metallica**

"Sides?" Ratchet asked softly, coming up to lay a red hand on the Lamborghini's shoulder. Sideswipe didn't move, didn't acknowledge him in any way, even through the bond they still shared.

The medic's hand tightened on his bondmate's shoulder involuntarily; he'd be damned if he would lose Sideswipe as well as Sunstreaker. At that thought, Sideswipe finally looked up at him sharply.

"Just let me die," he rasped harshly, and Ratchet flinched away before getting right in Sideswipe's face.

"No," he said coldly. "I will _not_ lose both of you, fraggit!"

Sideswipe's expression crumpled, and he pitched forward into Ratchet's arms. "It hurts," he managed. "Primus, Ratchet, it hurts!"

"I know," the medic whispered, already broken spark shattering


	2. Second to None

A/N: Alright, here is the first of the expanded song-meme drabbles, in no particular order. Beta'd by VAWitch.

**Summary:** Sunstreaker _hates_ Hot Rod. Hates him with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns.

* * *

**Second to None – Styles of Beyond ft. Mike Shenodah**

That smug-faced little glitch was asking for it. He'd been asking for it from the moment that he stepped off of the transport with Ultra Magnus's crew, and Sunstreaker was itching to give it to him. Something about him just rubbed Sunstreaker raw, and the yellow Lamborghini resolved to teach him a lesson.

And when Hot Rod finally got fed up with his baiting, Sunstreaker accepted his offer of a spar with an oil-thirsty grin.

He could feel Ratchet's disapproval thrumming through their bond alongside Sideswipe's excitement. He knew that the medic didn't understand his desire to pound the smarmy little slag-eater into the ground, just as he also knew that Ratchet wouldn't try to stop him so long as he didn't try to kill the kid. He glanced across the training room to see his bondmate standing beside his brother. Ratchet was watching him with arms crossed and a frown on his face while Sideswipe was practically bouncing on his feet, as wound up as his twin.

Ah, and there was Hot Rod, right on time, followed by the annoying green triplechanger and the garishly pink femme. His opponent's optics were dark and determined; all three of them looked angry.

There was a veritable crowd gathered in the training room to watch the match; anticipation hung in the air, and Sunstreaker drew a deep draught into his intakes, tasting it. He grinned, and knew that he looked downright dangerous. He caught several admiring expressions among the spectators, especially the new mechs Ultra Magnus had brought, and thought that it was almost a pity he was already spoken for. Angry jealousy rose up in that part of his spark that belonged to Ratchet, and he sent amused reassurance back. The medic subsided with all of the ill grace of an irritated cat, still hissing and spitting but at least somewhat mollified. Sideswipe laughed, and Sunstreaker heard the clang of metal on metal and his brother's snickering protest as the ambulance backhanded him.

He returned his attention to the sparring ring and the autumn-colored mech that had stepped into it; he almost couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of his mouth. Hot Rod saw it and scowled.

"Don't let him get to you, Roddy," the triplechanger said grimly. "If you lose your cool, he'll have you." Sunstreaker sneered; like that little bit of advice was going to save Hot Rod at this point in the game. Hot Rod just nodded tersely, never taking his optics off of Sunstreaker.

The two of them squared off suddenly, both sinking down into a combat-ready crouch—and it immediately became apparent to Sunstreaker that this youngling was no master at hand-to-hand. He grinned, and Ratchet warned him again not to kill the kid. He could feel him still fretting in the back of his mind.

He blocked the medic out.

Sunstreaker suddenly decided that he had to give the younger mech some credit—he used the tiny moment of distraction, when his opponent's attention was on his bondmate and not the match, to attack. _Primus_, but the kid was quick, too—he heard the crowd collectively gasp when he barely avoided a kick that would have knocked his dental plating loose—but skill and experience were on Sunstreaker's side. He could wait him out.

So at first he ducked and dodged, always just out of Hot Rod's reach, tantalizingly close but not close enough to deck, letting the youngster play himself out. Soon Hot Rod was snarling, furious that he was incapable of even laying a finger on that shiny yellow plating.

"Not so hot, are you, _Hot Rod_?" Sunstreaker was unable to resist taunting, and the younger mech flew into a fury at the words.

"_I'll show you hot_," he hissed, and somehow he managed to plow a fist into Sunstreaker's nose. The yellow mech stumbled back, and both of them stared at each other in shock for a moment that Hot Rod had actually landed a blow. Sunstreaker sneered again, the effect somewhat ruined by the energon beginning to trickle down his face from ruptured capillaries. Then, with an angry battle-cry, the Lamborghini leaped into action, and the fight was finally joined in earnest.

It did not last long after that.

Hot Rod learned, intimately and to his great regret, why Sunstreaker was considered one of the best melee fighters in the Autobot army. He was completely and utterly outclassed; every time he got back up to fight, Sunny beat him down again, until he eventually decided that maybe it was just better to stay down than to take more punishment from those yellow fists.

He lay face-down on the floor of the sparring ring, just trying to regain his senses, when one big yellow foot toed him over onto his back. He gasped as he landed on his dented spoiler; Sunstreaker snorted in disdain.

"You done?" he asked bluntly—Hot Rod didn't have the energy to do more than nod. "Thought so," Sunstreaker said smugly. The tone made him angry again, though Hot Rod couldn't help but feel a little smug himself, despite having come out the worse in this encounter: Sunstreaker bore his fair share of dents and scrapes as well, having been unable to come away completely unscathed fighting in such close quarters. The yellow mech's attention turned to their audience.

"Any other takers?" Sunstreaker purred, turning in circles to pin each mech in the training room with his vicious stare. He bared dental plates when no one stepped up, looking feral with the battlelust coursing through his systems.

"I thought so," he concluded smugly after completing his circuit, ignoring the disgusted death-glare that the triplechanger and the femme gave him as they helped Hot Rod to his feet.

"Sunstreaker, that's enough," Ratchet said bluntly, earning himself a glower. "Don't look at me like that, and both of you report to medbay immediately." He paused, and then added, "And if I catch either of you provoking the other again," he gave Sunstreaker a pointed look, "I will not hesitate to put the offender in the brig. Am I clear?" He crossed his arms over his chestplate and waited.

"Yessir," Hot Rod mumbled, wilting under the CMO's stare. Sunstreaker merely nodded curtly.

"Alright then," Ratchet announced. "Let's get you two idiots cleaned up, and the rest of you, clear out!"

Sunstreaker began to follow his bondmate without looking back—and was stopped by a hand on his arm. He whipped around to say something scathing to the moron who'd dared touch him, but the words died in his vocalizer when he realized that it was Hot Rod.

Before he could get properly outraged, however, the younger mech said, "I've never seen a mech move like that before."

"Of course not," Sunny said coldly.

"I was wondering how I could learn to fight like that—like you."

Sunstreaker stared.

And then he walked off. Hot Rod hurried after him.

"Seriously—I've always heard that you're one of the best we've got! Surely you know—"

The yellow warrior stopped abruptly and shoved at the kid's chestplate with the flat of his hand. "Look, brat, do you mean it?" he growled. Hot Rod nodded energetically.

"I would give anything to be able to fight like that!" he replied fervently.

Sunstreaker regarded him silently for a moment, and then—"Alright. Meet me, day after tomorrow, after our shifts are over, and I'll show you," and then he strode off again, leaving Hot Rod gaping after him.


End file.
